Chapter 7: Mother
**Please note in this chapter there are mentions of drug use**
I'm really putting Sherly through it. Muhahaha - but I'm trying to make Raffles a real bad guy. Even though I know in literature he is not as bad. :)
The following days were no better. For some reason, I hadn't heard from Lillie in some time and I was starting to grow worried. A knock came at my door but judging by the most recognizable sound of it, I knew it wasn't her.
"It's open," I said across the room. In walked none other than Mycroft. I was on my way out headed back to the university for more experiments. "I am on my way out…so you can just follow me…" I said nudging past him. I noticed a look of anger on his face; how he hated to trail me like a child. I didn't care though. I pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and swiftly took a puff.
"What do you want now, Mycroft?"
"What we have to discuss is an important matter…"
I rolled my eyes. "What you consider an important matter and what I consider an important matter are two very different ideas entirely…"
Mycroft walked ahead of me and stopped in front of me. So much so, that I had to stop walking because I was about to walk right into him. He then took off his top hat. At that moment, I knew the news was about our mother. Her health had worsened. I threw down my cigarette and stomped it out. Mycroft was right. This was important.
"Well…how is she," I asked.
"This isn't easy for me to tell you Sherlock," Mycroft began slowly. "She has been diagnosed with tuberculosis. Father has recently acquired a small estate in the hills in which he hopes to bring her there…the air may do her some good there."
I froze. I hadn't seen my mother in some time since starting at university. We had been in communications with letters and telegrams but recently that had also stopped. My father and I had a tumultuous relationship so if I went and visited her; chances are I would run into him as well. That still wasn't an excuse not to see her though. After all, father was more than likely always out of the house with servants and doctors tending to her.
"When can I see her?"
"As soon as she has been moved…father didn't want me telling you, but I felt that you deserved to know."
"Damn right?! I deserve to know. That woman raised me…really cared and raised both of us…father was too busy making a profit to care…" I said feeling my blood rising.
Mycroft tugged on his shirt collar. I knew the mentioning of father would even make him nervous.
"Father doesn't want you seeing her, but…"
"Screw him!?" I yelled angrily. "Innit' nice to see he hasn't changed a bit!"
I began to shove Mycroft out of my way. I had felt waves of anger wash over me.
"Sherly…please understand," my brother said, trying to show me comfort.
"No," I said back to him. "Father should have been taking better care of her. She's worked her whole life while he has had a silver spoon in his mouth - the same one you have!" I said this with intent to hurt my brother and I meant it.
One of the guiding lights in my life was my mother. No matter her background or where she came from, I looked up to her. She was a kind and gentle soul. I didn't want the high lifestyle my father had. Sure I was of privilege but I wanted to work my own way. Earn my own living. I didn't know it at the time but I would soon move out of the flat I had been living in. Under the thumb of my father and Mycroft and into the "tidy" and "neat" rooms you know today Watson.
"I wanted to tell you before her health gets any worse."
I laughed with sarcasm. She now had tuberculosis. There was nothing more worse. As I've told you before - Mycroft has no bedside manner.
"Later Mycroft," I said passing by him.
Once I got to university, to say it was hard to focus is an understatement. Even with the beakers and chemicals I couldn't shake the feelings of anxiety and sadness over my mother's health. Drowning myself in work usually worked to ease my mind, but for some reason no matter what I did; thoughts of guilt entered my mind. I knocked over a beaker and it shattered to the floor. I cursed under my breath. As I reached down to pick it up I was hit with a familiar odor; vanilla and perfume. I raised up and saw Lillie in front of me. Normally I would be glad to see her but she also looked sad and forlorn. She possibly came here with news of Raffles. A man, who at the moment, I didn't even want to think about.
"Sherlock…" she said daintily.
"I'm busy," I said harshly. Looking back on it, I really shouldn't have lashed out at her.
I watched as she was walking toward the door. She stopped on her heels and turned around.
"Whatever's going on with you…" she began.
"Whatever's going on with me, you don't need to know."
Her face twisted up in anger and lower lip jutted out. She then exited the lab slamming the door behind her.
